


i'm begging you to keep haunting me

by imposterhuman



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky is a little shit, Falling In Love, Ghost Bucky Barnes, Happy Ending, M/M, Tony Needs a Hug, Tony has a heart, but trust me its not sad, listen i KNOW i tagged major character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:33:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24993919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imposterhuman/pseuds/imposterhuman
Summary: Tony was pretty sure his house was haunted. There were the weird noises at random hours, the flying pots and pans that had almost killed him the other day, and the slamming of doors when he was home alone. Oh, and the transparent man-- named Bucky, apparently, who claimed to have died in the 1940s-- who liked to sit on his countertops and mock his life choices.Tony really hoped he was just hallucinating. He just didn’t have it in him to deal with an asshole ghost.“For the hundredth time, I’m real,” Bucky complained, cooling the air drastically with his displeasure.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Comments: 14
Kudos: 336





	i'm begging you to keep haunting me

**Author's Note:**

> for theoldestthewittiest on tumblr
> 
> enjoy!!

Tony was pretty sure his house was haunted. There were the weird noises at random hours, the flying pots and pans that had almost killed him the other day, and the slamming of doors when he was home alone. Oh, and the transparent man-- named Bucky, apparently, who claimed to have died in the 1940s-- who liked to sit on his countertops and mock his life choices.

Tony  _ really  _ hoped he was just hallucinating. He really didn’t have it in him to deal with an asshole ghost. 

“For the hundredth time, I’m real,” Bucky complained, cooling the air drastically with his displeasure.

Tony shivered where he was looking through old records for a James Buchanan Barnes and pulled his sweater tighter around himself. “A real dick, maybe,” he huffed, sending the ghost a glare. 

He’d pretty much accepted that he had a ghost roommate who paid no rent and made a huge mess, despite having no corporeal form. At least Bucky didn’t generate dirty dishes or laundry. Still, Tony was  _ curious _ . He wanted proof that Bucky was who he said he was, and he wanted to know why he’d ended up haunting Tony’s house. Also, why he was such a little shit, but that was secondary.

“My name’s right there,” Bucky rolled his eyes. It was weird to look directly at him, seeing as he was translucent, tinted vaguely blue, and faintly glowing, but he had an expressive face that demanded attention. “See? Real, just like I told you.”

“Yeah, yeah, excuse me for wanting to make sure I wasn’t having, like, a mental break or something,” Tony pushed the stack of records away from him. “So, you’re a ghost. I’m living in a haunted house. Should I be concerned?”

Bucky shrugged. “I mean, I’m not going to kill you in your sleep or possess you,” he said. “Not sure I could, honestly. So, no?”

“Should I be trying to exorcise you?” Tony asked hesitantly.

“I’d prefer you didn’t,” Bucky flared freezing cold for a second, a sure sign of his discomfort with the idea. He didn’t elaborate. Tony figured it was wise not to push.

He cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly. “Well, then,” he put on his best smile. “I guess I have a ghost roommate now. Does that mean you’re going to be helping out with the rent? At the very least, can you stop throwing pans?”

A pan flew out of the cabinet, slamming hard into the wall. 

“Oops,” Bucky deadpanned. 

Tony put his head in his hands. God, he had the worst luck with roommates.

\---

“If you don’t stop slamming doors in the middle of the night, I’m going to start throwing salt at you,” Tony said casually as he made his coffee after a night of broken sleep. Bucky had gotten it in him to throw ghostly tantrums at absurd hours of the morning, which had been messing with Tony’s already fucked up sleep schedule. “Seriously. Do you have anger issues or something? What do you possibly have to be angry about? You’re a  _ ghost _ .”

“I’m dead,” Bucky said, like that explained it.

“Presumably, that isn’t a new development,” Tony said, perhaps somewhat insensitively, judging by Bucky’s glare. “Sorry, that was bitchy. My bad.”

“It’s been a long time since someone was around,” Bucky admitted after a moment of silence. “I’m not used to there being people to bother with my door slamming. Besides, it’s not like I can sleep. I get bored.”

“Well, that was all kinds of sad that I don’t know how to begin unraveling,” Tony took a long sip of his coffee. “But I can help with the boredom, I think. Do you like to read?”

Bucky raised a shimmering eyebrow and wiggled his see-through fingers. “I can’t turn pages.”

“But you can slam doors?” Tony shook his head. “Are there even rules for this ghost shit?”

“Of course there are,” Bucky huffed, like Tony was the idiot for not knowing everything there was to know about ghosts. “I  _ could  _ turn pages, if I tried, but it takes a lot of energy and I can only manage one or two. Things that require less delicacy-- kicking a door closed, throwing a pan, knocking your coffee maker off of the counter-- those are easier, because I don’t have to be as precise. Does that make sense?”

Tony cradled his coffee maker protectively as he thought it over. “Yes,” he said finally, thinking about how to solve the problem. “So I’m thinking I’ll get some audiobooks for you. No pages, no physical anything, really, and you can stop slamming doors so I can finally sleep through the night.”

Bucky stared at him in stunned silence. “You’d do that?” he asked. “For me?”

“For my sleep schedule and peace of mind,” Tony corrected.

Though, looking at the sparkle in Bucky’s eye, he wasn’t sure that was entirely true.

\---

The first time Tony brought a date home, Bucky threw what could only be described as a hissy fit. 

Windows rattling, furniture flying, and, of course, the door flying open in invitation as soon as the poor girl got a look at the hurricane of ghostly angst in the living room. Tony didn’t even get to say goodbye before she was running out. 

Tony turned to the disaster Bucky was making of his living room-- he’d added ear-piercing screams to the mix, which Tony thought was just plain tacky-- and waited, hands on hips. God, but if he didn’t feel like his mother right then. He put on his best disappointed face and waited for the ghost to be done with his tantrum. Sure enough, the winds died down within minutes, leaving a faintly embarrassed Bucky standing in the destroyed room. 

“I thought she was a burglar,” Bucky’s voice went up like it was a question. “I was… defending the house?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “You were being a shit, more like,” he said. “You knew she wasn’t a burglar. In fact, I told you before I left that I’d probably be bringing my date home!”

“Whoops,” Bucky made a face. “I must have forgotten. I’m, like, seventy something. Old people have bad memories, you know that.”

Tony put his head in his hands. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to get Bucky to tell him why he was in such a mood, so he didn’t even bother asking. When Bucky wanted to tell him, he would. “Just… don’t do it again, please?”

Bucky made a grumpy noise of vague agreement, and Tony walked up to bed alone. Still, he could hear Bucky’s audiobooks going from his bedroom and he fell asleep to the soft narration.

\---

Having a ghost roommate, Tony figured, was a lot like having a real roommate, but Bucky was also liable to, well, ghost on him when he got in a mood, and there was literally nothing Tony could do about it. He couldn’t irritate him into answering his questions, or sit on him and force him to talk, or any of Rhodey’s other tried and true strategies for dealing with angsty people. 

Instead, he could only flick on the TV and leave a space next to him. He’d found that if he waited patiently, Bucky would often reappear silently, taking the spot next to him as if nothing had happened. They never talked about what set him off, because Tony knew what it was, and he knew there was no real solution.

Bucky had tried to stroke his cheek that morning, and his hand had gone right through. Tony had tried not to shudder against the cold, but Bucky had already vanished into thin air. 

Tony wasn’t oblivious; he knew there was  _ something  _ growing between them. But he also knew that he was alive and Bucky was dead, and that that dynamic wasn’t going to change for a while yet. Bucky didn’t push, didn’t ask for declarations of love and commitment, and Tony in turn didn’t really go on dates anymore, but they both were teetering on the edge of something more, something terrifying, and something utterly unattainable. 

Tony knew that, but it didn’t make him want to touch Bucky, to kiss him and hold him, any less. More than that, though, Tony wanted his friend. And his friend wouldn’t come back if Tony was moping about what could never be. So Tony turned on a shitty movie and waited for his friend.

The cold heralded Bucky’s arrival as he took visible form lounging on the couch. He didn’t say anything. What was there to say?

Tony kept his eyes on the TV until he fell asleep to the reassuring cold of Bucky at his side.

\---

Tony was fifty-four when he visited the small occult shop tucked in a forgotten corner of the city. After a long conversation with the witch who ran it, he came out whistling with a leather pouch. It was hidden in his pocket before he got home, and tucked away in a locked box when he did. Bucky never knew about it, and Tony never told him. 

He’d know about it when it was time. For now, though, Tony was content to curl up on the couch with his ghost and watch shitty TV. 

\---

Seventy years later, Tony laid in bed, one withered hand resting next to Bucky’s ageless one. His every breath was a challenge, but he still found the words to direct one of his young grandsons to bury a pouch in the yard, under the gnarled oak tree. 

He was dying, he knew. He’d lived a good, long life, and now it was his time. He wasn’t afraid. 

Bucky, though, Bucky was anxious. Tony could tell by the way he kept flickering in and out, like it was hard for him to hold a shape. Still, he stayed with Tony like he’d promised years and years ago. Tony hadn’t wanted to die alone, but he didn’t want to put his family through watching him pass. As a compromise, Bucky had offered to stay until the end, and Tony had been too weak to pass up on the offer (not that he could’ve stopped Bucky, anyway).

“Not much longer now,” Tony rasped, as if he was commenting on the time. His family members had come and gone, his sons-- Peter and Harley had grown into such good men-- pressing tearful kisses to his cheeks as they said their goodbyes, and his friends had already passed-- Pepper had gone holding Rhodey’s hand, and Rhodey himself had followed not long after. There was nothing tethering him to life anymore. He’d done everything he needed to do.

Bucky looked on the verge of tears. “You’ll find peace,” he promised. “You can rest, Tony.”

“I know,” Tony said. He listened to his sons moving around downstairs, to the city vibrant and alive around him, to Bucky’s soothing gibberish, and closed his eyes. “It was a good life.”

“It was,” Bucky said. Tony imagined the feel of Bucky’s hand in his, warm and soothing. It almost felt real. With a small, private smile, the one he wore when he knew something everyone else didn’t, Tony let go. 

\---

The house had been quiet since Tony died. Bucky was still tied to it, probably would be forever, but he couldn’t help wishing that someone would come around and exorcise him. It  _ hurt  _ to see reminders of Tony’s life and not see the man himself. Bucky amused himself by throwing pots and slamming doors, like he’d done a lifetime ago. It didn’t help.

It took three days before Bucky felt a disturbance, a shift in the aura of the house. It almost felt like… but no, that wasn’t possible. Tony didn’t have unfinished business, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have been dumb enough to tether himself to the mortal plane on purpose. Bucky didn’t know what was happening-- and he didn’t really want to find out, if he was being honest. Losing Tony was bad enough. Losing this disturbance that  _ felt  _ like Tony would be ten times worse, if he let himself hope.

As usual, though, Tony didn’t give Bucky a choice when it came to facing the truth. He stepped through the kitchen doorway, looking like he did when they first met. His wrinkles and grey hair were gone, the limp that had plagued him in his old age absent, but his whiskey eyes were as bright as they’d always been.

“Hey, Bucky,” he said, his smile warm and inviting and  _ there.  _

Bucky threw himself forwards, not expecting to be able to  _ touch _ Tony. He sobbed raggedly when his hands met a solid body, when his lips met solid lips. He kissed Tony with everything he’d felt for the last seventy years, and Tony kissed him back with equal fervor. It tasted like salt and  _ love _ .

“How?” Bucky breathed when they broke apart. He was sure he was smiling like a madman, and he really didn’t want to ruin the moment, but he had to know. He had to know that this was real.

Tony brushed a tear off of his cheek, thumb stroking the arch of his cheekbone. Bucky leaned into the touch. “I talked to some people, and we figured out how to tie me here,” he explained. “The details aren’t important, honestly. All that matters is that I’m here now, and that when we’re ready to move on, we can.”

“We?” asked Bucky, completely reduced to monosyllabic words.

Tony nodded. “Do you think I’d leave you by yourself?” he teased with a smile. “Now that I can finally get back at you for breaking all of my nice plates? No, you’re stuck with me for a while now, Bucky Barnes. Are you ready to show me the ropes of this whole ghost thing?”

Bucky kissed Tony fiercely, letting that be his answer.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos make me happy :))
> 
> come talk to me on tumblr [@imposter-human](https://imposter-human.tumblr.com/)


End file.
